


Hey

by cherrybina



Category: Merlin (BBC) RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-19
Updated: 2009-02-19
Packaged: 2017-10-02 20:36:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherrybina/pseuds/cherrybina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bradley makes Colin a mix.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hey

They had only just begun filming when Bradley handed Colin a flash drive.

"What's this?" Colin asked.

"It's a mix tape," Bradley answered with a grin.

Colin was confused. "A mix what?"

"A mix. Tape," Bradley repeated slowly. "Music."

"But this isn't a cassette."

Bradley sighed. "It's just an expression, Colin. 'Mix tape' sounds better than 'mix thing-you-stick-in-the-computer.'"

Colin held it up the flash drive. "You do know his has a proper name."

Bradley ignored him. "Did you ever make a mix tape, Colin? Or was everything on CD by the time you were born?"

Colin rolled his eyes. "Jesus, Bradley. You're, like, a year older than I am."

Bradley just shrugged. "Just listen to it. You might like it."

"Well, thanks."

Colin did like it. He was pleasantly surprised with Bradley's taste in music and he made a new playlist on his iPod called 'Bradley's Mix Tape.'

***

One of the producers explained that they wanted a behind the scenes feature on the DVD, so Colin was given the task of carrying around a small, handheld camera taping anything that might be interesting. Approximately 95% of what he shot was Bradley behaving in a ridiculous manner, and Colin wasn't sure what the producers planned to do with that, but he did manage to film some stuff that might be useful.

The first morning after they arrived at Chislehurst, Colin taped himself narrating some background information about how they were heading down to the caves to film a scene. He felt like a bit of an idiot, and he knew he was an actor and all, but there was a huge difference between following lines from a script while in character and sitting alone on a sofa in his trailer talking to a tiny camera.

Bradley came through the door just as he finished.

"Nice music," he said with an approving smile.

"It's the Pixies," Colin said, and immediately felt stupid.

"Yeah, I know." Of course he did — it was his mix. Mix tape. Whatever.

Bradley dropped down next to him on the sofa and looked at the camera. "Is that still on?"

"No," Colin answered.

"Good."

Bradley leaned over and kissed him.

Colin had quickly learned that Bradley did a lot of weird shit, and kissing Colin definitely fell into the weird-shit-Bradley-did category. It turned out that, after the surprise of the first time, Colin quite enjoyed it, which was an unexpected but pleasant part of the long days they spent together.

It was an altogether miserably wet, chilly day and Bradley's lips were cold, but his mouth was warm and Colin sank deeper into the sofa as Bradley leaned into him, his hands coming up under the hood of Colin's sweatshirt to wrap around his neck.

Bradley pulled back and looked at Colin. "Do you like it?"

"Huh?" The kissing was nice, but they never talked about it, and Colin certainly did not want to start now.

He gestured to Colin's iPod sitting in the docking station, which was now playing something by Radiohead. "The mix."

"Oh — yeah. It's not what I expected."

"What, you thought I was just some footballer who listens to Linkin' Park and Coldplay? I can't have layers?"

Colin thought about the fact that Bradley's tongue had been in his mouth just a few moments earlier, and that now he was sitting so close to Colin that their thighs were pressed together and Bradley's fingers were still grazing the back of his neck. Bradley had layers all right.

***

When Colin signed on to this role, he didn't expect that he would have this much fun. He knew it was a great opportunity. After all, he had only just finished school and here he was on a show with veterans like Richard and Anthony.

But it was more than that. He spent much of his days with Angel, Katie, and of course Bradley, and the four of them got on better than he ever would have imagined.

"Do you think the show will be a hit?" Angel asked.

They had been filming in France for a few weeks, and the four of them were relaxing after a long day at a place that billed itself as an authentic Irish pub. Colin was not convinced.

He shrugged. "Maybe."

He was always a little uncomfortable talking about fame because it seemed so pretentious, but the truth was that they were all actors and that sort of implied that they wanted some sort of recognition for their work.

"I'm just in it for the girls," Bradley said with a lewd grin.

It had taken Colin a long time to figure out when Bradley was joking and when he was serious. He still wasn't always sure he could tell.

Katie smirked, her tone sarcastic. "I don't think you need any help."

A few minutes earlier, Bradley had behaved in an utterly charming yet obnoxious way toward the waitress, and she had left the table giggling and slightly breathless, with apparently no knowledge of what they ordered since they were still waiting for their next round of drinks. Katie positively radiated irritation.

Bradley smirked. "I don't need fame to be irresistible."

"Let's not forget about Colin." Angel chimed in. "Remember that girl? The one from the night when we were still in England? She was so enchanted with Colin that she couldn't even speak."

Bradley rolled his eyes. "She wasn't _enchanted_. She just couldn't understand a word he was saying."

Colin kicked Bradley under the table.

Angel and Katie left a short while later claiming that if they had anymore to drink, they would be all puffy in the morning.

Colin was very pleasantly buzzed and he leaned back in the booth, stretching his legs under the table and knocking his feet against Bradley's.

"Do you miss home?" Bradley asked him.

"Not as much as I thought I might," Colin answered truthfully. "It's nice."

Bradley's foot tapped a steady, gentle rhythm on Colin's calf. "Yeah, it is nice," he echoed.

"Here comes your friend." Colin nodded to the waitress, who was headed in their direction with a huge smile on her face, her eyes fixed on Bradley.

Bradley sighed in a very put-upon way. "What can I say, Colin? This is my cross to bear."

Outside, the air was cool and it felt good on his overheated skin. Colin had no idea how to get back to the hotel where they were staying, but Bradley assured him he knew exactly where they were going. Colin wasn't especially surprised when, after walking just a few blocks, Bradley pulled on the sleeve of his hoodie, dragging him into a narrow alley.

By this time, Bradley's mouth was familiar, and Colin swept his tongue along Bradley's lip, the way he knew he liked it. He didn't know if it was the alcohol or the way Bradley was pressing his whole body against Colin's, closing all the gaps between them, but he felt himself respond in a way that went beyond the warm tingle in his belly that was the usual result of kissing Bradley.

Bradley was responding too — Colin could feel him through his jeans as he pushed his hips against Colin's. It felt good, but it was just a tease and not nearly enough pressure through too many layers of cotton and denim, so Colin hooked his fingers through Bradley's belt loops and pulled him closer in search of more friction. Suddenly Bradley's hands were tugging at the zip of Colin's jeans, and a moment later, Colin felt Bradley's hand wrap around him, warm against the cool night air.

A distant voice in his head was saying _wait, wait_, but when Bradley twisted his fist on the upstroke and flicked his thumb over the head, Colin could only moan into Bradley's mouth and rock forward into his hand.

It seemed only right to return the favor, and Colin managed to get Bradley's jeans open after just a minute of fumbling. He mirrored Bradley's motions, matching him stroke for stroke, until they were moaning together, heads pressed into each other's shoulders.

Colin came first with a groan and a sharp jerk of his hips, and as he gasped for breath, he was dimly aware of the fact that Bradley was still hard under his fingers. His hand shook as he tried to finish him off, so Bradley wrapped his sticky hand around Colin's fist and guided him until his hand squeezed Colin's painfully and he came, wet and messy, all over them both.

Later, when Colin dropped his jeans, still sticky from where he'd wiped his hand earlier, onto the pile of dirty laundry, he thought that maybe this was all getting to be a little fucked up, but when he flopped down in bed, he could only think about how good it felt to have Bradley's hands on his body and his mouth on his skin. He fell asleep before his brain could get any further than that.

***

Colin never really thought it all the way to conclusion before, but he was surprised to find that it seemed more inevitable than anything else when, near the end of filming, he finally ended up flat on his back on Bradley's bed.

When Bradley pushed one slick finger inside of him, it only hurt for a minute, and then suddenly he found himself rocking down against Bradley's hand, wanting more. It was almost too much, and he clenched his fists and closed his eyes against the fire that threatened to overtake him as Bradley pushed one of his knees back and moved his wet fingers inside of him.

Just when Colin thought he might very well come from nothing more than Bradley's touch, Bradley pulled his fingers free and knelt between Colin's thighs. Bradley gripped Colin's hip with one hand as he slid into him with agonizing slowness, stopping frequently to rub his hand along Colin's side and ask, over and over, "are you okay?"

Colin tried answer, but when he tilted his hips up, Bradley slid the rest of the way in with a groan and all the breath whooshed out of Colin's chest. Bradley buried his face in Colin's neck and when he spoke, his voice was shaky: "Oh god."

Colin wrapped his legs around Bradley's thighs and struggled to catch his breath. "Bradley, you have to — you have to move."

Bradley did move then, pulling out slowly and then pushing back in again, and Colin threw his head back on the pillows and gripped the sheets as every nerve in his body flared with a searing jolt of electricity. It was like he could feel Bradley everywhere at once as he thrust into him in a steady rhythm.

When Bradley reached a hand between them, wrapping a fist around him and stroking erratically, Colin knew he was close. Bradley's hips snapped with increasing urgency and Colin's hands slid helplessly across Bradley's sweat slicked back, so he dug his fingernails into Bradley's shoulders in an effort to hold on.

Bradley brought his mouth down to Colin's for a sloppy kiss, and when he bit down on Colin's lower lip, Colin could only arch his back and fist the sheets and come, as Bradley shuddered and gasped and bucked his hips hard against him.

Bradley collapsed on top of him, and as the pleasant tingling in his limbs faded and the fuzziness in his head sharpened, Colin was left feeling vaguely sore and very sticky, and the realization of what just happened hit him squarely in the chest. He pushed against the body that was pressing heavily down on him and squirmed away. His ears were ringing loudly and his pulse pounded in his head.

Bradley's eyes were wide with shock or concern or _something_, and his lips were moving, but Colin couldn't hear anything he was saying, he just knew he had to get away. He stumbled off the bed, trying to escape the oppressive heat that was suddenly suffocating him.

It was months in the making, really — Bradley's tongue in his mouth, a handjob in an alley, and then - _oh, fuck_.

Colin freaked the fuck out.

***

It was easy enough to avoid Bradley for the last few days of filming, and Colin felt a huge sense of relief when he finally went home. Despite his anxiousness to get back to a normal life, at first he found that he really did miss the show. Things had ended in a spectacularly horrific fashion, but there had been a lot of good times, and he missed the company, the hysterical laughter, the easy conversation. But he found that home brought its own set of comfortable routines — old friends, familiar places — and he fell back into an easy rhythm of life before Bradley fucking James.

So of course it was just when he was least expecting that Bradley showed up at his door.

"What do you want?"

"Nice to see you too, _Colin_."

Colin sighed. "What are you doing here, Bradley?"

"I brought you something." Bradley grinned and handed him a small plastic box.

Colin looked at him blankly. "It's a cassette."

Bradley's smile widened. "It's an _actual_ mix tape."

"What?"

"I made you a mix. Another one."

"But I haven't got a cassette player."

"I thought you might say that." Bradley pointed to his feet, and Colin saw that there was an old black boom box sitting on the stoop.

"I suppose if I don't let you in you'll just stand outside my window and hold that over your head?"

"Were you even born when that movie came out?" Bradley asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Bugger off." But Colin opened the door and let him in.

Colin plugged the boom box into the outlet and put the tape in. When he turned, he found Bradley lying on the floor, looking up at the ceiling. Of course Bradley wouldn't sit on the sofa like a normal person. Colin sighed and stretched out beside him, leaving a safe distance between their bodies.

"This is the Pixies again," Colin said as the first song started up.

"I figured I'd lead with something I knew you would like."

"I didn't even know you could buy blank cassettes anymore."

"I'll have you know, it was quite a bit of work finding one." Bradley sounded quite proud of himself.

"So, am I supposed to carefully analyze the lyrics and look for the hidden message that you're trying to send with this mix?" Colin asked, staring at the ceiling.

"What message do you think I'm trying to send?"

"That you're sorry."

Bradley's voice was incredulous. "That _I'm_ sorry? What have I got to be sorry for?"

Colin gave him a withering look. "Surely you remember."

"Funny, but I don't recall you asking me not to when I was — well. In fact, I distinctly remember you doing the exact opposite of begging me to _stop_."

Colin rubbed his hand over his eyes in frustration.

"I'm not sorry," Bradley continued, propping himself up on one elbow and looking down at Colin. "I'm not sorry about any of it, and I think that despite your little crisis here, you're not sorry either."

Bradley did weird shit like showing up at his door with a fucking cassette tape, but it was Colin who reached up to pull Bradley down, bringing their mouths together, sliding his tongue across Bradley's lower lip and licking his way into his mouth, just the way he knew he liked.

Colin suspected that Bradley might never touch him voluntarily again after what happened last time, so he was the one who pulled Bradley's t-shirt over his head and he was the one to leave a path of kisses across Bradley's chest.

Bradley caught Colin by the wrist when he reached for the button on his jeans.

"You're not going to run out of here after and not talk to me for two months again, are you?"

Instead of answering, Colin pulled his hand free and rolled onto his back, bringing Bradley with him, spreading his legs so Bradley could rest flush against him. Bradley didn't say anything after that.

They kissed unhurriedly, shedding clothes and tasting the skin that was left behind it its absence. When Colin parted his thighs and arched up against Bradley, it didn't feel like he was proving anything; it just felt right.

After, Bradley immediately rolled off and eyed Colin warily. He rolled his eyes. "Oh, for god's sake. I'm not going to leave. Anyway, it's my flat."

"Good," Bradley replied, his face serious. "I would rather you stayed."

Colin turned on his side and tentatively reached out to touch Bradley's hair, still damp with sweat and plastered to his forehead. Bradley closed his eyes and moved his head into Colin's hand.

"So I'm really not supposed to read into the meaning of the lyrics?" The tape was still playing in the background, and Colin recognized the song.

"Why?"

"Bradley, this song is called 'Perfect Day.'"

Bradley sighed and shook his head like Colin was the biggest idiot in the world. "This is Lou Reed. He's an icon, Colin. Can't you just leave it at that?"

Colin tucked his head under Bradley's chin and curled up against his chest, his fingers tracing patterns on his skin. "Maybe not perfect, but a pretty good day, anyway."

The song ended and the tape ran out, shutting off with a soft click. Colin could hear Bradley's soft breaths against the top of his head in the quiet room.

"You know, my iPod can play hundreds of songs in a row."

Colin could hear the grin in Bradley's voice. "Your iPod lacks the retro charm of my mix tape. Do you want me to flip it to the other side so you can hear the rest of the songs I so thoughtfully chose?"

Colin wrapped his arm around Bradley's waist and tugged him closer. "Maybe later."


End file.
